One man’s thick fingers stretch Keith Warlock’s hole open while the other presses his mouth down, tongue deep as the first pulls back with a wet, deliberate pull. The dark-haired, muscular man on top pins Warlock’s wrists above his head, his own weight pressing the couch cushions into the small of his back. The second man’s beard brushes Warlock’s chest as he shifts closer, his grip rough on the hips that arch up to meet the fingers.
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